autumn rains had produced a slimy pulp over the already mossy steps. “First thing will be for Corin and Nick’s work crew to clear these stones off. Public safety and all that.” Felicity pulled a notebook from her pocket and jotted a note. “Maybe we could get tiki torches to line the stairs. That would add safety and just think how dramatic it would be!”
At the bottom of the stairway they came out from under the tree branches onto the wide floor of the quarry. The weed-and-bracken-covered basin sloped gently downward toward the sheer stone wall that had produced materials for the manor house and outbuildings in the nineteenth century when the property had been a gentleman’s country estate. In front of the rugged backdrop a low stone building had been erected with a flat concrete roof that apparently served as a stage in earlier days. She considered the logistics. “People would have to bring their own chairs. We could set the holy family scene on the stage…” She looked back at the stairway they had descended. “But I don’t think we could get a camel—or even llamas—down those steps.”
“I wish you’d quit saying ‘we’,” Antony objected.
Felicity gave him a quick hug. “Don’t be a grouch. I know you can see the possibilities. It could be really wonderful.”
Antony frowned, but after a moment he pointed across the quarry floor to a grassy bank curving away from the stone wall. “The slope looks gentler over there. I suppose a path could be cleared for the animals. But I don’t really recommend it,” he added hastily.
Further contemplations were interrupted by a cheery “Hulloo!” And two familiar figures came around the corner of the stage, the tall Corin towering over the shorter, stockier Nick.
Felicity strode through the knee-deep growth and followed the lads to the back of the flat stone structure. Nick disappeared inside the open doorway, then stuck his head back out the window opening. “This is great space in here for storing props and such—well, will be when we get it cleaned out. These stone walls and the cement roof are pretty much water tight. Want to come in?”
Felicity hesitated. There wasn’t much that put her off, but there would certainly be spiders lurking in there. “That’s all right. Thanks.” She scrambled up the steps leading to the floor of the stage instead. “This certainly feels solid enough.” She looked around.
“Do you figure we’ll need a sound system? Or will the rock walls of the quarry provide the necessary acoustics?” She asked. Almost a hundred years ago these rock walls had rung to the sound of actors’ voices proclaiming “Murder in the Cathedral.” Felicity added her voice to that of the thespian ghosts:
“Unbar the doors! Throw open the doors!
I will not have the house of prayer, the church of Christ,
The sanctuary, turned into a fortress.…
The church shall be open, even to our enemies. Open the door!”
Antony, still back at the foot of the stairs, applauded. Felicity gave a satisfied nod. Right then. Acoustics good.
“Kendra said she could get whatever we’ll need in the electronic line for the music.” Nick had come out of his burrow and joined her on stage. “It won’t be elaborate. Just a narrator and the audience singing familiar things like ‘We Three Kings’.”
Corin also joined them. He pushed back his blond shock with a fierce jab that expressed the agitation he was suppressing. “I rang my dad this morning. He’s none too excited about my not coming home for Christmas.” His frustration came out in a cross between a sigh and a growl. “So much pressure being an only child. If I had six brothers and sisters like some—” He shot Nick a half-amused look, “They’d be glad to be shot of me.”
“Hey,” Nick objected. “My family loves me.” Then he smiled self-deprecatingly, “But of course, my brothers are glad enough to have me out of the bedroom.”
Corin returned to the subject at
At the bottom of the stairway they came out from under the tree branches onto the wide floor of the quarry. The weed-and-bracken-covered basin sloped gently downward toward the sheer stone wall that had produced materials for the manor house and outbuildings in the nineteenth century when the property had been a gentleman’s country estate. In front of the rugged backdrop a low stone building had been erected with a flat concrete roof that apparently served as a stage in earlier days. She considered the logistics. “People would have to bring their own chairs. We could set the holy family scene on the stage…” She looked back at the stairway they had descended. “But I don’t think we could get a camel—or even llamas—down those steps.”
“I wish you’d quit saying ‘we’,” Antony objected.
Felicity gave him a quick hug. “Don’t be a grouch. I know you can see the possibilities. It could be really wonderful.”
Antony frowned, but after a moment he pointed across the quarry floor to a grassy bank curving away from the stone wall. “The slope looks gentler over there. I suppose a path could be cleared for the animals. But I don’t really recommend it,” he added hastily.
Further contemplations were interrupted by a cheery “Hulloo!” And two familiar figures came around the corner of the stage, the tall Corin towering over the shorter, stockier Nick.
Felicity strode through the knee-deep growth and followed the lads to the back of the flat stone structure. Nick disappeared inside the open doorway, then stuck his head back out the window opening. “This is great space in here for storing props and such—well, will be when we get it cleaned out. These stone walls and the cement roof are pretty much water tight. Want to come in?”
Felicity hesitated. There wasn’t much that put her off, but there would certainly be spiders lurking in there. “That’s all right. Thanks.” She scrambled up the steps leading to the floor of the stage instead. “This certainly feels solid enough.” She looked around.
“Do you figure we’ll need a sound system? Or will the rock walls of the quarry provide the necessary acoustics?” She asked. Almost a hundred years ago these rock walls had rung to the sound of actors’ voices proclaiming “Murder in the Cathedral.” Felicity added her voice to that of the thespian ghosts:
“Unbar the doors! Throw open the doors!
I will not have the house of prayer, the church of Christ,
The sanctuary, turned into a fortress.…
The church shall be open, even to our enemies. Open the door!”
Antony, still back at the foot of the stairs, applauded. Felicity gave a satisfied nod. Right then. Acoustics good.
“Kendra said she could get whatever we’ll need in the electronic line for the music.” Nick had come out of his burrow and joined her on stage. “It won’t be elaborate. Just a narrator and the audience singing familiar things like ‘We Three Kings’.”
Corin also joined them. He pushed back his blond shock with a fierce jab that expressed the agitation he was suppressing. “I rang my dad this morning. He’s none too excited about my not coming home for Christmas.” His frustration came out in a cross between a sigh and a growl. “So much pressure being an only child. If I had six brothers and sisters like some—” He shot Nick a half-amused look, “They’d be glad to be shot of me.”
“Hey,” Nick objected. “My family loves me.” Then he smiled self-deprecatingly, “But of course, my brothers are glad enough to have me out of the bedroom.”
Corin returned to the subject at
Similar Books
